XVI.

C O U R T E S Y   C A L L

—aka, mother's side of relatives: might be psychopathic,

INT— A PRESIDENTIAL SUITE.

PARIS, FRANCE — NIGHT.

SCENE V.

"WHAT I DON'T understand," Archie started, a cocktail of pissed and exasperated, "is why you had to stand naked as the day you were born in front of a man who can very well kill you?"

"I'm going to be honest here and say— ow."

"Sorry," KC said, busy with the cotton and ointment, inspecting his emergency repair. Figures that the soldier was the one for emergency fix-ups and neither tory boy knew how, but at least it felt thorough. "If you stopped moving, this would be easier."

"I'm explaining myself to Archie. It requires a three-act play of movement." I cleared my throat, feeling heavy from the day's finishing event and being in a bathrobe with four fine men after I had almost cracked my head, and still a little drunk from it all.

This truly is an entire predicament.

"So what happened was, I'm buzzed alright, that's the staple of the story— yes, I took the champagne bottle and I had a claw-foot bathtub, at this point that's just maths." At the deadpanned looks my way, but a little twitch from KC, I continued on. "Alright not a fan of comedy right now... and this guy looks like a professional— props to you, good sir." I nodded at the bounded man kneeling in the centre of the room. Kristoff wasn't even looking at him anymore, he was studying the prod of KC's fingers on my face. Looking at me without looking at me. Like a merchant inspecting his goods for damage.

I knew I was staring at him at an embarrassingly long time— I wholeheartedly blame getting sloshing drunk for this. After all, ugly people become decent with a couple of shots, what more a naturally handsome man? — but he still didn't meet my gaze. He was all locked arms and steadily blank expressions, which was fair, old news, but still.

Even in this angle in a bathroom, sat on the dinning table in front of a soldier still in his bastardly ugly camo pants I was taking serious pains in not making a rude comment because he was bandaging me up— he was still so beautiful.

Ethereal.

"Ms. La Verne?" A snapped finger in my field of vision. I turned to Archie's impatience and something on my face somewhat registered to him, because he sighed as if I had aged him a few more years from just one gaze. "You know what, it's fine. Better for you to rest now... before I put you to rest."

I laughed heartily because that was meant for himself. KC tilted my chin backward and made an affirming sound. "You're going to be fine— no bruise or deep enough cuts, but this—" A light touch from a ring finger swept across my cheekbone. Just on the corner of my eye. There was a little sting. "This is going to show. It won't scar and it'll disappear, but it won't be pretty for a while, Nina doll."

"No cut is pretty," I murmured with a pout.

KC and Archie shared a look. Then KC snorted. "Yep, she's drunk. Thank God I got there in time." He turned back to our bound friend, eyes darkening as he cracked a knuckle. "Is it my turn for an interview? I heard some of your questions to our friend. I don't mind asking a few in return..."

I raised a hand. "I'm fine. Not particularly into seeing—"

"No," Kristoff interrupted. I stopped. The entire room stopped, but that was the natural order when Kristoff spoke. Like a Roman emperor facing his people, voice booming as if the gods wielded it. I turned. "No need for that. I know who he is."

Archie froze. "You do?"

Kristoff untangled his crossed arms to pull off the assassin's cap and the tape KC had bound his mouth in. I didn't expect gentleness, but he wasn't harsh about it either. The man was pretty too, not as pretty as Kristoff of course, but he was admittedly too good looking to be covered.

"You work for Natasha. I remember your face."

Archie's face cleared. "One of her guards. I remember you now."

"The aunt on your side is trying to kill me too?" I blurted out, half standing before KC let out an "whoa there, tiger" and tucked my unraveling bathrobe back in place. The world tilted a little and I felt like everything I just drank wanted to come out, but I held ground.

"Is there anyone around you not going to try to kill me?"

"He wasn't going to kill you."

"I wasn't going to kill you."

I blinked. Kristoff and unnamed grey-eyed stranger blinked in unison. They didn't even look at each other. So I laughed. A little manic.

"This is just so swell."

Kristoff turned back to him. "She sent you to scout on her. And there is nothing too bad in testing her loyalties, of course. Testing her in general." Then a difference, even my drunk-addled mind could register the lowered pitch. The steel in his tone, cold and unforgiving.

"But she should've talked to me first. If she was even remotely upright right now, I'd bring your body back to her in black and blue to ensure this doesn't happen again but... never matter. Stand up."

The order was not meant to be met with hesitance. In fact, the grey-eyed man stood up in one with swift movement. He was taller than Kristoff, enough to use the word looming, but in the gaze I couldn't see because his back was to us, he looked small. Retreated. A spark of fear from whatever he met.

I understood.

Inspiring fear was one of Kristoff's natural charm. Like an inevitability. The young man facing the endless sea.

"You get to keep your legs only to tell her we will be there in the morning, eight am." He turned to Archie by the briefest tilt. Archie nodded, making a mental note. He turned back to him. "You may leave."

Even with bound wrists, the man spared no hesitation to turn to my open room, his steps half soundless within the carpet. There was no other sound for a solid two minute mark.

"The balcony," KC murmured. "He's gone. Fuck, did you open the balcony, Nina doll?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but Kristoff cut in. "That was your job. You were supposed to keep watch."

I closed my mouth as KC's spine straightened. "My apologies." My hand quietly found his jacket and squeezed to tell him I wasn't cross with him. The chill of the room was spine-tingling, and the way KC's hearty demeanour shifted made my brain hurt.

But Kristoff was unrelenting.

"I don't want your apologies, KC," I said clear and crisp. The only sound in the room was him and my heartbeat. "I want you to do better."

KC gently untangled my fingers from his, and stepped back. "I will. I'm going to set up another perimeter. For good measures."

Kristoff barely even looked at him, the dismissal and disinterest in spades but the intention was clear: there was no ifs. KC had to fix the crinkle. "As you should."

And that was that. KC leaving the same way the grey-eyed man went, and Archie and Kristoff with me in the living room for another beat, before Archie rose an eyebrow.

"I'll finish—"

"Go," was Kristoff's curt order that he also left. He gave me cursory look, but that was it.

Now, the devil and I.

It was definitely the alcohol that I glared at him. Wet hair, cold legs, and wrapped bathrobe and all. When his eyes finally met my gaze with another one of those unreadable looks of his that he doesn't seem to empty out of— they were everything I could remember. Bottomless. Pitless. But it was different when you're drunk.

It reminded me of Positano. Not of the moment, that flirty little dance, but the way the dark waves moved. The way it went on and on, with no light able to touch it. It bended to no will and swallowed anything in its path.

"What is it?"

"You shouldn't have dismissed KC like that. It isn't his fault your aunt sent an assassin to kill me."

He moved around the room, soundless, like a panther with hands in his pockets. He was still dressed like he had from the flight, only the coat, jacket and tie missing.

"Yes, it is."

"Yes he's an assassin?"

"No, he's not an assassin, but yes it is KC's fault."

"No, it is—"

"Antonina," One name— not even really mine — and the words died from my throat. There was a burning fight inside me that outraged, but his stare was meant to extinguish every little fight. "He was in charge of your protection the minute we landed in France. He was meant to protect you from every and any angle. I didn't hire him to have blindspots, much less not think that you would open some balcony doors."

He was close now, and every cell in my body wanted to rage. To fight. I was still sat on the table where KC had propped me to fixed me. One hand out, and it grazed the cut softer than KC's did. Featherlight to the touch, though not of fear. I don't think so. God, I don't know, he's close enough that I can smell him. Almost feel him.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." I cleared my throat. He had spoken softer, almost a whisper because I had to adjust my normal voice to match his. "No, I'm fine. It's one little cut." Why was I assuring him?

Because KC. KC needs my help.

He scoffed. "One little cut too many. If KC wants to keep his job, it will have to stay that way."

"That seems unnecessarily harsh considering it was your aunt who sent him."

"I would have pushed him from the same balcony he came from if I didn't think it would make you nauseous in this state." His fingers found my chin and tilted. Dark, dark eyes. "Should I have?"

"This is the twenty fourth floor."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

"No. No, you were right, that would've made me queasy."

I didn't need to imagine the sound of an object, a body, hurtling against the wind and space. Or the splat as it reached the cobblestoned bottom.

His hands moved to my arms, softly at first, kindly almost.

"I'm not bruised or hurt anywhere else," I whispered. His eyes followed the movement of my face, my lips. "I promise."

His grip tightened, once as a warning, before he helped me down and walked me to my room. Slow and steady, still so afraid as if I was glass near fire. Or glass in ice. There was silence, not stifling this time, or terrifying, just silence you'd usually associate in a library. A temporarily empty room in a full house. Calm.

He pulled the covers down, maintaining one hand on my elbow, before helping me in. Still in the bathrobe. I raised an eyebrow and he raised one back.

"Do you want me to help you change?"

I couldn't help it, I giggled. He looked so serious. "No, no. We can't have other untimely ideas, still a little fragile from the pseudo attack and all. This is fine, thank you."

As he tucked me in, he stood tall once more. "You're welcome. Rest. Good night, Antonina."

I gripped the covers, the smile on my face feeling prominent. "Good night, Kristoff."

And the lights were gone, but Paris, mercifully, were still awake outside the fluttering curtains. A witness to my first night.

Miraculously, a weekly update. More Kristoff & Nina on this one, wonder why. . .

I'm joking, please don't kill me.

Hope you enjoyed~